A writing challenge

Okay so this was a challenge set by my good friend, who asked me to make ‘watching paint dry’ interesting. This is what I wrote:
The walls were white, well as white they could possibly be given the time that had past since I first had the gumption to remove the hideous wall paper and white wash them. Nothing really happened with any great urgency when it meant being practical and hands on. I just hoped this renewed enthusiasm would last to see my finally put colour back on them.
We’d settled on a three colour scheme, black, grey and red. Of course my immediate attention was drawn to the black. Lathering my brush thick with the colour of night, I applied the first stroke to the wall. There was something satisfying watching the blackness eliminate the white, just a nightfall vanquishes the day.
The black wall was also the smallest, and it didn’t take long given my enthusiasm, to see the whole wall done. I stepped back to admire the view.
Where the paint had dried, it was the black of an old school chalk board. Dulled and matte. Where it was still wet, it took on a sheen as the light reflected off the shiny surface. I thought about starting the opposite wall, but the way the paint dried, almost dying back to the muted flatness had me captivated.
It was if, for the briefest of moments, the paint now free from the confines of the tin, lived and died upon my wall. It’s own colour a mural to itself.
Copyright: authorchrisbrown 


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